I stare at him in shock. Covering the night expenses is going to cost a lot of money and... "You did this for me?"
He brings my hands to his lips once more. “I wanted our first date to be memorable.”
His words are followed by a deafening crash that explodes outside the restaurant, the sound ripping through the air. A series of sharp, staccato cracks that pierce through the airfollows and sends my heart leaping to my throat when I realize they're gunshots.
Someone is shooting.
Outside…inside.
Glass shatters, and wood splinters. The man who just swore his love for me yells something at me that I don't make out. I watch it all happen in slow motion before a hand grabs my arm and I am pushed to the floor, a body shielding mine from all the glass flying in the air.
And the bullets.
“I’ve got you,” a voice murmurs into my ear, assuring despite the chaos breaking around us. “I’ll protect you,mia stellina.”
And then the world lights up.
Chapter Six
Antonio
A light bulb explodes and bursts, leaving us in complete darkness when a bullet hits it.
Marco Bortelli is dead! He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s made his last move.
If it were me or any of my brothers shooting up this place, the first two bullets would have been sufficient to take us out, but the idiot couldn’t hit a barn from the inside. But even careless bullets land one time out of ten. That's why I have a fucking hole in my leg.
If Emilia gets hurt, I will wipe out the entire Bortelli lineage and not even my father or Matteo will be able to stop me!
I take advantage of the sudden darkness. With adrenaline pumping through my veins, I'm already moving. I band an arm around Emilia’s waist and haul her to her knees. "Let's move, baby," I whisper into her ear, dragging her with me across the cold, tiled floor.
A searing pain shoots through my leg from the bullet wound the fucker gave me a few days ago, but I ignore it. The partition that divides the kitchen from the restaurant is our only barrier against the line of fire, so I drag her toward it, crawling through the assault with my body shielding hers. When we make it into the kitchen, I push her to move to the corner where the chefs are crouched and hiding. They’re far away from the line offire, and once I'm assured she has joined them, then I take out my gun.
The restaurant's front door bursts open, and I listen for the footsteps. I kneel with my good leg against the partition and crack it open a tad, depending on my hearing since it's dark as shit. Four in total.
"Did we get them? We killed them, right?"
"Shut up!"
"We should leave now before the cops, or worse, the other Rossi brothers get here."
Bunch of cowards, all of them. From the way their voices shake, I can tell they're nervous. Fucking Marco couldn't afford to hire better gunmen.
"We don't leave this restaurant until I am certain Antonio Rossi is dead!" Marco's voice rings out. I debate shooting all of them dead where they stand, but the thought of Emilia dealing with dead bodies when it's her job to save lives makes me hesitate a tad, but not long enough. "Who the fuck does he think he is to threaten me. Check the kitchen and the rest of you, the bathrooms. There are still lights on in there."
"Fuck it," I mutter under my breath, using my silencer to make the first shot. The first guy drops with a cry, so I go for the second, aiming for his chest. He drops without a sound. The third one spins toward the partition, fumbling for his weapon, but I put a bullet through his skull before he can raise it.
Leaving two—Marco and the one whimpering gunman.
"Antonio? Come out and face me, you fucker," cries the man who just ambushed a restaurant where I was about to dine with my woman. He could have killed her. Jesus Christ. I couldhave lost her. The thought sends a sharp pain shooting through my chest, but I shake my head, unwilling to think about it.
I can’t lose her.
I won’t!
I listen to his footsteps, frantic. He whips around, searching in the dark, but the man whimpering on the floor doesn't help with his sense of direction.
"I'll return the favor to you, Marco," I call out, shooting twice, one shot for each of his legs. A payment for crippling me for days. I would have fucking preferred a bullet to the head or the heart, a clean shot that would have taken him out, but this'll have to do.
